Life Interferes
30 July 2009 22:43![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amulLast year, I met one of those people with whom I just clicked, you know? A few minutes into our first conversation, and she and I were nodding at each other. This person is going to taste my cooking someday, we were thinking. This person is going to know me. It's not a sexual relationship that I'm talking about. It's that....intensity of conversational energy, that flow, the patter, the rhythm of stories unfolding that gave each of us the subtle clues which said the other person will empathize with your highest highs and lowest lows, more than other people might.
But I'm not as hasty as I once was, so I gave it a year. Waited until I ran into her at the same convention next year, and yes, it was still there. Her boyfriend is feeling it now, too. One of my friends is starting to sense the vibe. One of us, the ancient tribal drums inside us echo. One of us. One of us.
So when Porphyria told me she needed to go to Michigan, I knew exactly where we'd be spending the night.
We arrived later than we intended, and this newfound friend of mine had to get up earlier than she expected the next morning. She gave us the tour of her newly-purchased home, the whispers and hints of dreams firmly laid inside each step through. The glint of pride and self-reliance that I was already coming to associate with her shown through like fire through frosted glass. This was more than just a house to her, more even than just a home. This was where she was Building A Future, and having guests like me spend the night was a vital part of that Future.
We laughed and joked and fed on ice cream and leftovers. We pulled out crafts and baubles, trinkets and Good Intentions like it was Show N Tell. A hundred times we said, "I should be getting to bed," and a hundred times we found enough energy for Just One More Story.
And then....in the dim afterglow of conversation, after the poignant pause that always seems to herald a shift from laughter to solemnity, she caught my eyes and said, "Wish me luck tomorrow."
But inside her eyes, and under her words, and in the oh-so-casual way our hands touched as she passed me fresh linens, she was saying I may be dying, and I'll understand if you walk away.
There was nothing I could say, except Good luck.
But I'm not as hasty as I once was, so I gave it a year. Waited until I ran into her at the same convention next year, and yes, it was still there. Her boyfriend is feeling it now, too. One of my friends is starting to sense the vibe. One of us, the ancient tribal drums inside us echo. One of us. One of us.
So when Porphyria told me she needed to go to Michigan, I knew exactly where we'd be spending the night.
We arrived later than we intended, and this newfound friend of mine had to get up earlier than she expected the next morning. She gave us the tour of her newly-purchased home, the whispers and hints of dreams firmly laid inside each step through. The glint of pride and self-reliance that I was already coming to associate with her shown through like fire through frosted glass. This was more than just a house to her, more even than just a home. This was where she was Building A Future, and having guests like me spend the night was a vital part of that Future.
We laughed and joked and fed on ice cream and leftovers. We pulled out crafts and baubles, trinkets and Good Intentions like it was Show N Tell. A hundred times we said, "I should be getting to bed," and a hundred times we found enough energy for Just One More Story.
And then....in the dim afterglow of conversation, after the poignant pause that always seems to herald a shift from laughter to solemnity, she caught my eyes and said, "Wish me luck tomorrow."
But inside her eyes, and under her words, and in the oh-so-casual way our hands touched as she passed me fresh linens, she was saying I may be dying, and I'll understand if you walk away.
There was nothing I could say, except Good luck.